


Chaos

by Seraph_Novak



Series: Destiel One-Shots [40]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cats, Friends to Lovers, M/M, One Shot, POV Castiel, Past Abuse, Roommates, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 13:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15582579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraph_Novak/pseuds/Seraph_Novak
Summary: In his final year of college, Castiel reluctantly gets himself a roommate. He's only looking for someone to split the rent with, but when Dean Winchester turns up at his door, everything in his life turns to chaos.





	Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! I'm working through a few fic requests at the moment, hence when I'm uploading so much... I really had fun writing this one, so I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading!
> 
> As always, all kudos and comments are very much appreciated :) ♥

Castiel glared up at the clock hanging above the front door, a cup of black coffee (his third in the past hour) pressed against his palms. In less than 20 minutes, his new roommate would be arriving. He hadn't wanted to stoop to this level, but after receiving his second eviction notice in the mail, he’d realised he had no other choice. He had no doubt that his siblings would've simply called their parents for help if they'd been in his situation, but Castiel wasn't prepared to ask for charity. His pride wouldn't allow it.

Beside him, drinking from a bowl of warm, cat-friendly milk, was his one and only companion, Pancakes. If it were up to Castiel, he would've happily spent his final year of college in the sole company of the toffee-coloured tabby he'd found in the alleyway six months ago. But, unfortunately, cats were incapable of contributing to the rent, and so welcoming another human being into his life was the only solution.

“I wonder what he's like,” Castiel mused aloud, scratching the sensitive spot behind Pancake's ears. “I hope he's at least tolerable. Though I doubt it. Most people aren't...”

Pancakes meowed softly.

“You're right,” Castiel said. “I should at least give him a chance. I'm jumping to conclusions before I've even met the man.”

As if on cue, there was a loud rapping at the door. Castiel glanced at the clock (he was eight minutes early) and downed the last of his coffee, the hot liquid burning the back of his throat. Pancakes was frozen still as he stared at the door with his large, orange eyes; he clearly wasn't used to Castiel having visitors.

“Hang on!” Castiel called out to the stranger standing on his doorstep. He gave himself a few seconds to calm down and force a smile, then strode across the room and opened the door.

The handsome man on the other side was not what Castiel had been expecting at all. He was tall and broadly-built, with sandy brown hair and eyes the colour of a forest in springtime. And amongst the sea of freckles adorning his face, a boyish smile was reaching out to him, promising kindness and comfort. But Castiel had been fooled by fake charm too many times to let it flatter him.

“Hello,” he said curtly, thrusting out a hand. “You're Dean, I presume?”

The man put down the box he was holding and shook his hand. “Yeah, man. That's me. You're Cas, right?”

“Yes.”

“It's good to meet you.” Dean smiled again, and Castiel forced himself not to return the favour; he wasn't looking to make a friend out of this arrangement. “So, uh... Where should I put my stuff?”

Castiel ushered him inside and directed him to the spare bedroom. “I know it's not much, but it has an en-suite, and the wardrobe's fairly generous.” He grimaced at the tiny window opposite the door. “I'm afraid the view's nothing special; you won't get much sunlight in here, especially around this time of year.”

Dean shrugged. “I can make do. That's what electricity's for, right?”

“I suppose.” Castiel allowed himself a smile. “We do have WIFI, but it's rather temperamental. The signal's stronger in the lobby, or you can use the library just around the corner. That's where I tend to study nowadays.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Castiel examined the side of Dean's face for a moment, silently appreciating the sun-kissed texture of his skin. He looked like a man who spent a lot of time outdoors, soaking in the rays.

“What is it you're studying?” he asked.

“Mechanical engineering,” Dean said, offering a lazy grin. “That means I'm good with my hands.”

Castiel blushed. “Oh. That's, um... That's good to know.”

“I mean I'm good at fixing things,” Dean explained with a knowing smirk. “But, you know... I've got other talents, too.”

“Well, okay.” Castiel flitted his eyes around the room, desperately searching for some kind of escape hatch. “I suppose I'll just leave you to it then. If you need any help unpacking, just let me know. We'll order some food once you're finished.”

Dean smiled. “I can already tell I'm gonna like it here.”

Castiel scampered off before he could embarrass himself any further. The quiet of the kitchen was comforting in a way he'd never truly appreciated before, offering a place of sanctuary and relief. He had no idea how he was going to survive an entire year with this man when he could barely spend five minutes in his presence without blushing like an imbecile. After several bad experiences with so-called friends (and one nasty partner), he'd vowed to never let another person get close to him again. But Dean was undeniably charming, and Castiel was afraid he wouldn't be able to resist that flirtatious smile for long.

A couple hours later, Dean emerged from his room – his hair freshly wet from the shower. Castiel tried his best to ignore the black shirt stretching over his broad chest, and the faded jeans hanging low on his hips, but he couldn't help but snatch a few glances when the other man wasn't looking.

“What d’you wanna order?” Dean asked him, completely oblivious to the hungry look in Castiel's wandering eyes. “I think there's a pizza place not too far from here; I passed it on my drive down.”

Castiel snapped himself out of his daze and nodded. “That sounds great.”

“What toppings d'you want?”

“Oh. I'm not a fan of toppings... I'll just have cheese.”

Dean snorted. “That's pretty tame, dude.”

“I'm a picky eater.”

“Well, I'm the opposite,” Dean said, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “I'll take the whole fucking menu.”

Castiel chuckled. “I won't judge you.”

“Thanks, man.”

When the pizza arrived, Dean somehow convinced him to sit and watch a movie. He claimed it was the perfect way to celebrate their first night as 'roomies', and Castiel didn't have the heart to say no to such an endearing suggestion. He let him pick the film (something about guns and tuberculosis) and Dean made them some buttered popcorn to sit between them on the couch. At some point during the movie, Pancakes came out of hiding and started purring against Dean's legs – at which point Dean began sneezing uncontrollably and confessed that he was slightly allergic to cats.

All in all, they had a good time together. But Castiel was still wary. He didn't need any more distractions – especially not from someone as effortlessly charming as Dean. So, he made a promise to himself: he'd strive to be a pleasant roommate, but being friends with Dean was off the table. If he wanted to get through another year without getting emotionally scarred again, he'd have to keep his distance.

At least, that's what he told himself was going to happen.

~~~~~

**3 weeks later**

The next time they really talked, Dean was steaming drunk. He'd come stumbling into the apartment at three in the morning – waking Castiel up with his clumsy footsteps – and started rifling through the fridge. Castiel had tried to ignore the noises coming from the kitchen, but after twenty minutes of relentless banging, he dragged himself out of bed and went to investigate.

“What are you doing?” he asked, standing in the kitchen doorway in nothing but his boxers and a baggy shirt.

Dean flinched at the interruption – whacking his head on the fridge in the process – and turned around. His hair was dishevelled, and there was a redness to his eyes that suggested he'd recently been crying. Castiel hated the way his heart ached seeing the other man in such a state.

“Are you alright?”

Dean wiped his nose with the back of his hand and scoffed. “What the fuck do _you_ care? You don't even like me.”

“That's not true.”

“Oh, yeah? So how come you've ignored me the entire time I've lived here, huh?”

Castiel bit the inside of his cheek. “It's... not what it seems. I'm not a very sociable person, that's all. You really shouldn't take it personally.”

“That's easier said than done.”

“I'm sorry,” Castiel said, slowly making his way across the room. Up close, he could see that there were still tears in Dean's eyes. “Did something happen? Would you like to talk about it?”

Dean ducked his head. “Nah. It's stupid.”

“I don't believe that.”

“I'm just” – his voice cracked – “I'm feeling kinda homesick, that's all... It's dumb, I know.”

Castiel frowned. “Why is that dumb?”

“I'm a grown-ass man.”

“That doesn't mean you're not allowed to miss your family, Dean.”

“Well, it's mostly my brother.” Dean smiled to himself. “I miss that little dork so much, it fucking hurts.”

Castiel hesitated for a moment, then placed a hand on his shoulder. “What's his name?”

“Sam.”

“What's he like?”

“Oh, you know... He's hella smart. And he's a little shit.”

Castiel chuckled. “It sounds like you really care about him.”

“I do. I mean, he's a bitch, but I love him.” Dean sniffed, his eyes drifting to the hand still resting on his shoulder. Castiel considered moving it away, but then Dean gripped his arm and squeezed it. “Thanks for talking to me, man. You don't have to listen to his crap.”

“It's okay.” Castiel swallowed thickly. He could feel the pulse in Dean's palm ticking against his skin. “Now, let's get you to bed. Your head's not going to thank you for this in the morning.”

Dean twisted out of his reach and pouted, his eyes fuzzy as they drifted over Castiel's body. “Why d'you ignore me all the time?” he asked. “You were so cute the first day we met, and then you kinda just... _changed_. It's like you became a different person or something.”

“Like I said, I'm not a sociable person.”

“But that first night –”

“I was being polite.”

“I liked you more when you were nice,” Dean said, his words slurring together. “I kinda wanted to kiss you.”

Castiel cleared his throat. “Well, that's not happening.”

“Why not?”

“I barely know you, Dean.”

“Whose fault's that?”

“We're not having this conversation.” Castiel hooked his arm around Dean's waist and guided him towards his bedroom – being careful not to step on a sleeping Pancake sprawled out in the middle of the lounge.

He was just about to lower Dean onto his bed when the other man wriggled out of his grasp and turned to face him, a drunken smile clouding his usually handsome face. For a moment, he just grinned at him senselessly, then he glanced down at his lips and leaned in for a kiss. But, luckily, his sluggish movements were easy to evade.

“No,” Castiel said, turning his face aside. “You're not thinking clearly, Dean.”

“I just wanna kiss you, man... No biggy.”

“You're going to bed.”

“You coming with?”

“Stop it.” He shoved Dean backwards onto the bed and threw the covers over his fully-clothed body. “Get some sleep.”

Dean blew him a kiss, then collapsed against his pillow. Castiel couldn't believe how quickly he fell asleep; his snores were shaking the thin walls within seconds.

The next morning, Dean didn't remember anything about their exchange. Castiel didn't dare mention his tears – or the almost-kiss – so he concocted some story about finding Dean asleep on the couch, and carrying him to bed. Dean didn't seem very convinced, but the pounding in his head was enough to keep him silent for the rest of the morning. And by the end of the day, their awkward encounter was nothing more than an unpleasant memory in Castiel's mind.

~~~~~

**1 month later**

It had been weeks since the incident with Dean, and Castiel was more or less over the kiss that had almost happened. He'd returned to ignoring his roommate, and Dean had stopped asking him questions to fill in the gaps of that night. Everything was going well, until Castiel came home one day to find Dean drowning in a sea of scattered papers in the lounge, his fingers drawing blood from his scalp.

His first instinct was to go straight to his room and leave Dean to it, but the other man was clearly in distress, and Castiel couldn't bear to walk past him without offering some kind of comfort.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, his hands twitching awkwardly by his sides.

Dean tore at his hair and scoffed. “Does everything _look_ okay?”

“Well, no... That's why I was asking –”

“I have this stupid exam next week,” Dean said, shoving a pile of notes onto the floor in frustration, “and none of this shit makes sense to me! I work with my hands, not with my head. I have no fucking clue what any of these equations mean!”

Castiel pursed his lips. “You're a very talented engineer, Dean. I'm sure you know what you're talking about.”

“But this is gibberish! When I wanna make something, I just do it. I don't memorise any of this crap!”

“Well, perhaps that's because it already makes sense to you,” Castiel suggested. “You're so familiar with these equations that you don't even realise you're applying them to your work; you do it subconsciously.”

Dean considered this for a moment. “You mean... I already know all this stuff?”

“Exactly,” Castiel said. “Just work backwards. In the exam, dissect the equations and apply them to a practical example. Pretend you're working with your hands.”

“You think that'll work?”

“Well, it works for me. When I'm analysing a text, I view it from a writer's point of view; I ask myself what the author is trying to say, and then I apply it to the context of the piece.” He shrugged. “I know it's a flimsy analogy, but...”

“No, I get it.” Dean smiled at him. “That makes sense.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! You're not a bad tutor, you know that?”

Castiel huffed a laugh. “I'll give you some peace and quiet.”

“No, wait a sec!” Dean reached out to grab his arm. “Could you maybe... sit with me for a while? I just need someone to bounce ideas off.”

“Um... I actually have to go –”

“Please, Cas. I'd really appreciate it.”

Castiel hesitated – his bottom lip caught between his teeth – then sat down on the end of the couch. He was internally chastising himself for being so weak, but the blinding smile on Dean's face made it worth it. He even allowed himself to enjoy the brush of their fingers as they both poured over the notes in front of them, their knees bumping together beneath the table.

And when Dean came home with news of a perfect score two weeks later, Castiel was too overcome with pride to stop his roommate from hugging him. They celebrated with greasy Chinese food and a movie marathon, and Castiel savoured every second of it. He couldn't deny the fact that he and Dean were becoming friends; it was inevitable at this point. But as long as he kept his feelings for the other man strictly platonic, everything would be fine… Or so he hoped.

~~~~~

**3 months later**

Soon after Castiel had helped Dean study for his exam, the two men became close friends. It wasn't an ideal situation – especially considering Castiel's mild crush on his roommate – but it was easier than ignoring each other 24/7. They'd fallen into a comfortable routine of studying together, which had led to them meeting up at the library after college every Wednesday afternoon. After hitting the books for a few hours, they'd either get a drink, or go home and eat takeout in front of the TV. It was a simple life, but being with Dean made him feel more happy and content than he'd felt in years.

It was a drizzly, Wednesday afternoon when Castiel realised his feelings for Dean were getting out of control. Dean was grinning more than usual as he sat down at their usual table – his hair slightly frizzy from the rain – and Castiel immediately knew that something was up.

“You look happy,” he said, fighting back a smile. “Did you get your results on that paper back already?”

Dean shook his head, his sopping hair sending raindrops flying across the table. “You know that girl I was telling you about the other week? Lisa Braeden?”

Castiel's stomach clenched. “Oh. Um... Yes?”

“Well, guess who's going on a date with her this Friday?”

“Uh...”

“Me, you idiot!” Dean laughed. “I can't believe it! I asked her out on a whim, you know? And she said yes straight away! She didn't even think about it.” He winked. “I must be irresistible.”

Castiel tried his best to look happy. “That's wonderful news, Dean.”

“I know, right?”

“Do you, um...” He swallowed roughly, his eyes trained on the copy of _Beowulf_ beneath his hands. “Do you really like her?”

Dean shrugged. “I dunno. I mean, she seems really nice. And she's fucking beautiful.” He licked his lips, his cocky expression fading into something small and childlike. “I guess it all depends on whether I screw things up or not.”

Castiel pushed his ill thoughts aside for a moment, his hand reaching across the table to squeeze Dean's arm. “You'll be fine, Dean. Anyone would be lucky to go on a date with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course.”

For a second, Dean looked like he wanted to say something – his eyes searching Castiel's face for some kind of answer – but, instead he simply clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. “Thanks, man.”

In the end, Lisa wasn't a suitable match for Dean. They were too different, he said; her dreams of travelling through Europe and opening her own gym didn't appeal to him, and their personalities seemed to clash on too many occasions. Castiel had taken the news of their break-up as impassively as possible, but he couldn't deny the sense of the relief that had washed over him when Dean had first told him. Did that make him a bad friend? He wasn't sure.

But if his feelings towards Dean’s relationship had taught him anything, it was this: he was slowly falling in love with his roommate.

~~~~~

**1 month later**

The waiting room was pale green. Castiel stared at the mint-coloured walls with unfocused eyes, his hands trembling in his lap. He'd already washed his hands three times since arriving, but there was still dried blood beneath his nails. The urge to vomit was excruciating.

Suddenly, the doors burst open, and Dean's voice called out to him. He was in too much shock to answer back, but Dean immediately spotted him from across the room.

“Cas!” Dean pushed past the straggle of pet-owners crowding the waiting room and grabbed his hands. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You ran out into the road!”

“The car didn't hit me,” he said, a single tear rolling down his cheek. “It only hit Pancakes.”

Dean cupped the side of his face. “Don't cry...”

“How can I not?”

“You told me Pancakes was gonna be fine.”

“Yes.” He sniffed. “But he may require surgery to avoid further complications, and you know I can't afford that.”

“What kind of complications?”

Castiel shrugged. “The vet wasn't specific, but... if he doesn't have the surgery now, he's likely to lose function in his back legs.” He closed his eyes, the image of Pancakes getting struck by the incoming car staining his retinas. “I saw everything, Dean... It was horrible.”

“Try not to think about it,” Dean said, his voice incredibly soft as he brushed a thumb across Castiel's cheek. “He's alive, isn't he? That's all that matters right now.”

“But, but the surgery –”

“We'll figure it out. How much d'you have in your savings?”

“Nothing,” Castiel croaked. “I spent it all on rent.”

“Well, what about your parents?”

“No, I... I can't ask my parents for help.”

“Why not?”

“It's complicated,” he said, turning his face away from Dean's touch. “When I left for college, my parents and I... we fought. I told them I wanted to support myself financially, and they called me ungrateful.” He sighed. “You must think I'm pathetic.”

Dean frowned. “Why would I think that?”

“I was petty and naive,” he said. “I didn't want to give my uncaring parents power over me, and now I'm paying the price... I should've known I could never do this alone.”

“I'm sure they care about you, Cas.”

“No, they don't.” He scoffed. “All they care about is their money and their reputation. They even tried to bribe me into keeping quiet when I told them I was –” He stopped himself, the word evaporating in the back of his throat. It wasn't until Dean reached for his hand and squeezed it that he managed to spit it out: “Gay.”

Dean clenched his fists, his nails accidently digging into Castiel's palm. “Those sonsofbitches... Who the fuck does that to their own kid?”

“Bigots, I suppose.”

“Well, I ain't letting you ask those asshats for money. Screw 'em!”

“I don't want to, Dean – believe me, I don't – but if Pancakes’ health is at stake, then what else am I supposed to do?”

Dean chewed the corner of his lip for a moment, then said, “I'll give you the money.”

Castiel balked. “What? Dean, no –”

“I've been saving since Sophomore year, okay? I've got plenty to spare. And Pancakes is kinda like my cat as well, so... it's only fair I chip in, right?”

“Paying the entire bill isn't 'chipping in’, Dean!”

“Hey, I don't care about the money.” He pressed his hand against Castiel's cheek, his fingers carding gentle lines through the back of his hair. “I know that fur-ball means a lot to you, Cas. And you mean a lot to me, so... you do the math.”

“Dean, that's very kind of you, but I can't –”

“I ain't arguing with you, okay?” Dean pressed his lips together, as if reading Castiel's thoughts. “And don't go thinking this is pity money, alright? You work your ass off every day, and you never hesitate to help me with my crap, so don't try and tell me you don't deserve this, 'cause you do.”

Castiel was speechless for a moment, his wet eyes glued to the floor. A part of him was afraid of proving his parents right by accepting his friend's help, but another part of him was overcome with nothing but gratitude instead. Allowing Dean to help him didn't feel like giving up somehow; he knew his roommate wouldn't hold this debt over his head and use it to take advantage of him in the future. Dean was a kind and caring individual who – for some inexplicable reason – seemed to give a damn about Castiel. It felt strange to be cared about by someone, but he was slowly learning to enjoy it rather than question it.  

“Thank you,” Castiel said, his words choked by tears. “You have no idea how much this means to me. Really, I can't... I-I don't know what to say.”

Dean gave him a soft, reassuring smile, and Castiel reacted before his mind had time to catch up with him: he lunged forward and pressed his lips against the other man's cheek, whispering another thank you against his warm, freckled skin, and allowed his touch to linger for a second longer than necessary. When he finally pulled away, Dean's face was flushed, and his mouth was parted in awe.

“What was that for?” he breathed.

Castiel shrugged. “Just for being you.”

Before Dean could respond, a young vet peered around the door and ushered him over. Her smile was friendly and open as she explained Pancakes’ condition (they were going to keep him in overnight, but he was recovering well). Castiel was hesitant to say yes when she asked if he’d reached a decision about the surgery, but one look from Dean gave him all the reassurance he needed.

“We'd like to go forward with it,” he told her, his eyes never leaving Dean's face.

The vet practically beamed. “I'm happy to hear it. The surgery may seem expensive, but in the long-term, it's more than worth it. I'll just go fetch you some papers to sign, and you can be on your way.”

Once they'd signed the papers and agreed to pick Pancakes up the next day, Dean dragged him over to the reception and said, “I'm getting us pet insurance.”

“What?” Castiel shook his head. “No, Dean... You've done far too much already.”

“D'you really wanna be in this situation again?”

“No, but –”

“I'm doing this, Cas. No buts.”

Castiel watched in a daze as Dean filled out the forms and made the first monthly payment. He must've easily spent the majority of his savings in the space of a few hours, and it was all for Castiel. Well, technically it was for Pancakes, but Castiel couldn't help but think Dean was really doing this for him. And in that very moment – as Dean shook the receptionist's hand and thanked her for her time – Castiel realised that there was no going back.

He was officially head over heels for his best friend.  

~~~~~

**4 months later**

Castiel was still in a state of shock as he and Dean walked back to their apartment, both of them grinning from ear to ear. They'd officially graduated from college, and their results had been amazing. They'd made it.

“I can't believe it,” Castiel said, spluttering a laugh. “We actually did it, Dean.”

Dean grinned. “Hell yeah, we did!”

“It's all went by so quickly... I'm not even sure what to do with myself now.”

“You've got a degree in English Literature,” Dean said, nudging him playfully with his elbow. “Write a book, man.”

“Oh, I don't know... I don't think I'm ready for that.”

“So, what? You're gonna keep putting it off?”

“I didn't say that, I just –”

“You're awesome, Cas. I've read your stuff, remember? You're more than ready to start writing.”

Castiel smiled shyly. “You really think I'm good?”

“I think I said 'awesome', didn't I?”

“Yeah, okay.” He rolled his eyes fondly. He wasn't sure if it was their high spirits, or the fact that the sun was bathing them both in a sea of golden light, but Dean looked more beautiful than usual in that moment. “What about you? What are you going to do now?”

Dean shrugged. “My uncle's got a job waiting for me back home, working in his garage. I know I'm a little over-qualified now, but still... It's what I wanna do. At least for a while, you know? Until I figure things out.”

“That sounds great, Dean.”

“Yeah, but... I'd have to move back to Kansas.” Dean gave him a sideways glance, his face twisting uncomfortably. “We wouldn't be roommates anymore.”

Castiel smothered his disappointment with a smile. “But if that's what you want to do, then you should do it.”

“But what if I want something else more?”

“What do you mean?”

Dean bit his lip. “I, uh... It doesn't matter. Forget I said anything.”

They continued their walk in silence, their grins replaced by private frowns as they made their way through the smouldering heat. Castiel's forehead was drenched by the time they made it back to their apartment, and Pancakes was sunbathing on the concrete steps leading up to their door.

“Hey, boy,” he greeted the cat softly, tracing the scar on the back of his leg with his finger.

Dean gave Pancakes a scratch behind the ears, then unlocked the door. The stuffy air from inside the apartment greeted them like an open oven, and Castiel rushed to open all the windows.

“It's like a sauna in here,” he muttered, but Dean didn't respond. The other man was still fidgeting in the doorway, his eyes flitting everywhere but Castiel. Even if they hadn't spent the past year in each other's company, he still would've known there was something wrong.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Dean tore a hand through his hair, just like he'd done the night he was feeling homesick all those months ago. “There's, uh... There's something I need to tell you.”

Castiel didn't like the sound of that. “What are you talking about? What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong. I mean, I guess that depends on how you react to what I've gotta say, but –”

“Dean, you're scaring me.”

“Sorry.” Dean licked his lips and took a step forward. His cheeks were red, and Castiel had a suspicion it wasn't just because of the summer heat. “Cas, I... I've been thinking... about us.”

Castiel's heart leapt in his chest. “What do you mean, 'us’?”

“I think you know what I'm talking about.”

“No, I don't.”

“Don't lie to me, man. D'you realise how hard this is?”

Castiel wiped his palms on his slacks and disappeared into the kitchen. He could hear Dean's footsteps following him as he splashed cold water onto his face; he was standing right behind him, his breath ghosting the back of his neck. This time last year, he never would've let someone stand so close to him – not after everything he'd been through with Bartholomew... Usually, another person's presence filled his heart with dread. But Dean was different. Even now, as he could feel the other man's pain and dejection pulsing through the air, all he wanted to do was fall into his arms.

“Please don't say what I think you're going to say,” he gasped, the water streaming off his face and into the sink. “Trust me, Dean, it will only ruin everything.”

“If you're tryna tell me you don't feel the same way, I don't believe you.”

“Why can't you just listen to me?”

“Because” – Dean turned off the tap and gently turned his face in his hands – “you're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time, and I don't wanna lose you. Not without a damn fight.”

Castiel sagged against the counter. “I'm not good for you, Dean. I'm not good for anyone.”

“That's not true.”

“You don't know me. Not really...”

“Yes, I do.” Dean grabbed him by the shoulders and ducked his head, forcing Castiel to meet his eyes. “You're my best friend, Cas. And you're more than good for me. You're fucking _perfect_ for me.” He shook his head and smiled. “I love you, you idiot.”

“No.” Castiel writhed against him, trying to shake the words out of his head. “Don't say that. Please, don't say that.”

“It's the truth.”

“Even if it is, it doesn't mean anything.” Castiel pushed his friend away. From a distance, he could see the tear tracks on Dean's cheeks, and it broke his heart. “I can't be with you, Dean. I don't work well with others.”

Dean frowned. “Cas, c'mon –”

“You don't get it, do you?” he growled, putting another step between them. “I don't want you here. I don't need you in my life! I'm fully capable of looking after myself.”

“I know you are, but that doesn't mean you should have to.”

Castiel shouldered past him and opened the door. “I want you to leave.”

“I'm not gonna do that.”

“Please, Dean. I need time to think.”

“Why?”

“Because!” he threw his hands in the air. “Do I really need to give you an explanation?”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, Cas, you do. You're kicking me out for no goddamn reason. All I wanna do is talk about this, and you keep pushing me away –”

“That's what I've been trying to do for almost a year!” Castiel said, his voice verging on hysterical. “But you kept insisting on staying around and involving yourself in my life, so I had no choice but to go along with it... And now it's gone too far.” He swallowed thickly. “So I think you should leave.”

“Don't do this –”

“I'll give you some time to pack your things,” he said, throwing his satchel onto the couch and heading for the door. “I'll be back around five. I hope you'll be gone by then.”

Dean didn't bother wiping away his tears; he let Castiel see his pain as he walked across the room and laid a hand against his cheek. “I don't get what you're going through,” he said, “but you obviously need time, so... I'll go. But I'm not staying away for good. Just remember that, okay?”

Castiel was tempted to kiss him – to taste his lips for the first and last time before he left – but he didn't. That would be too cruel. So instead, he simply placed his hand on top of Dean's and closed his eyes, allowing himself a few seconds to memorise the feeling of Dean's touch against his skin.

And then, without saying another word, he opened the door and walked away.

~~~~~

**3 weeks later**

It had been a few days since Dean had stopped trying to contact him, and Castiel had slowly slipped into a familiar state of despair and loneliness. Even Pancakes was feeling low. Castiel watched him now from the couch as he padded across the room and sniffed at Dean's door, his tail twitching anxiously in the air. He reached out a hand to lure the tabby over, but Pancakes simply stared at him, then disappeared through the window that led to the fire escape.

“Fine,” he mumbled to himself. “Leave me... That's what everyone else seems to do.”

Castiel groaned at his own childishness. He knew this was all his fault; he'd been the one to push Dean away, despite everything he'd said. He had no right to feel sorry for himself – no matter how pathetic he was.

The heatwave was coming to a slow but steady end. He longed for the cool arrival of Fall, and the promise of a new year following close behind. Once he'd found a cheaper apartment and a decent job, he could start saving for the future. Maybe he could travel through Europe like Lisa Braeden, or go underground and live like a mole. The more he distanced himself from other people, the easier it would be not to repeat the mistake he'd made with Dean. He couldn't bear the thought of growing close to someone again, only to have his feelings muddied and cursed by his stupid insecurities.

He was considering the logistics of living in a bunker when someone knocked at the door. Pancakes instantly jumped back inside and started meowing in his ear.

“Okay, okay.” Castiel shuffled across the room and opened the door. When he saw Dean standing on the other side – a week's worth of stubble shadowing his face – his stomach dropped. “Dean? What are you doing here?”

“I left some stuff behind,” Dean said, his voice rough and monotone. “You mind?”

Castiel stepped aside. “Of course not. Come inside.”

He offered him a drink, but Dean declined.

“I'll just grab my stuff and go.”

“You don't have to rush –”

“I'll only be a few minutes.”

Castiel hovered outside his bedroom door as Dean retrieved a few t-shirts and a battered copy of _Slaughterhouse-Five_ from the bottom of his wardrobe. When Dean was finished, they both stood there in silence, staring at each other with matching looks of anguish. But Dean's pained expression quickly returned to impassiveness.

“Alright,” he said. “I'll get outta your hair now.”

He was halfway through the door when Castiel asked him to stay.

“We can order takeout,” he suggested, hating how desperate he sounded. “And we still haven't watched that trilogy you keep telling me about... King of the Rings, is it?”

Dean smiled despite himself. “It's _Lord of the Rings_ , you dork.”

“Oh. Well, we could watch it now?”

“I don't think so.”

“Right.” His shoulders slumped. “Okay.”

Dean stared at him for a second longer, then dumped his things onto the counter and said, “Why the hell're you doing this, man?”

“Doing what?”

“Screwing with my feelings like this! Three weeks ago, I told you I fucking loved you, and you kicked me out. And now you're asking me to watch movies and eat takeout with you? It's not fair, Cas. It ain't right.”

Castiel ducked his head. “You're right. I apologise.”

“I wanna know why you did it.”

“I don't know. I just thought you might want to stay for a while –”

“No.” Dean shook his head. “I mean, why did you make me leave? I know you needed space, but... why?”

Castiel sighed. “It's complicated.”

“Try me.”

“It's not a very exciting story. And it's no excuse for how I treated you...”

Dean pulled out a chair and sat down, leaning his elbow against the counter and resting his chin on his palm. “Tell me. I wanna know.”

Castiel sucked in a breath. He hadn't told anyone about Bartholomew – not properly. His parents were vaguely aware of what had happened between them, but he'd never went into details outside his own head. To talk about those dark days out loud would be like going back in time, and he was afraid to do that. But if it meant fixing things with Dean – maybe even salvaging their friendship – he was willing to face it.

“Okay,” he said slowly, easing himself into a chair next to Dean. Pancakes jumped onto the counter and started purring against Dean's arm, but Castiel didn't let the endearing sight distract him from the story he was about to tell.

“When I was sixteen, I made the mistake of coming out to my friends... The next day, the entire school knew I was gay, and no one wanted to talk to me. No one, except Bartholomew.”

Dean shook his head. “Bartholomew?”

“My first and only boyfriend,” Castiel clarified, not missing the flash of envy in Dean's eyes. “He took advantage of my loneliness, manipulated me into a secret relationship... He told me he loved me, but he couldn't bear to be seen with me.” He stared down at his hands. “I was so naive.”

“You were just a kid.”

He looked up at Dean – at his knitted brows and warm, open gaze – and wondered how he ever could've compared him to someone like Bartholomew.

“In our senior year, I tried to break up with him,” he continued. “I'd started to see through his charade, and I was ready to start anew. All I wanted was to go to college and escape that godforsaken town.” He let out a shaky breath, his bottom lip starting to tremble. “But Bartholomew didn't want to let me go. He... He hurt me. Beat me. Told me I would never be loved by anyone but him.”

Dean tightened his fists into balls, and Castiel could see the rage seething beneath his stoic expression.

“The beatings weren't the worst part; it was the things he told me. After a while, I started to believe them, and a part of me still does. Even after I stood up for myself and left him, I still couldn't shake off those words... That's why I was so cold to you when we first met. I was afraid of growing close to you.” He blinked back his tears and turned away. “All my life, I've been used by the people I care about: my parents, my friends... _Him_. And even though the rational side of me knows there must be good people in the world, I'm too afraid of getting hurt again. Especially from someone I've come to love.”

Dean reached for his hands. “I would never hurt you. I would _never_ do what that fucking psycho did to you.”

“I know, but...”

“It's hard for you to believe it.”

“Yes.” Castiel smiled sadly. “I love you, Dean. I really do. But Bartholomew emotionally abused me for years, and I... I don't know if I'll ever truly recover from that. And you deserve better than damaged goods.”

Dean brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed them. “You're not damaged goods, you hear me? Don't let that fucking asshole define you.”

“But what if he was right?”

“No.” Dean kissed the inside of his palm. “No, Cas. He was wrong. I love you, okay? I love you so fucking much.”

“I want to believe you, I really do...”

Dean lifted his chin with his finger, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Look at me, Cas. Look at me. I would never lie to you, okay? I love you. This ain't a joke. This is real.”

“Are you sure?”

“100%.” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I'm crazy about you.”

Castiel couldn’t help but smile. Bartholomew had scarred him for life – he’d come to terms with that – but maybe, with Dean’s help, he could learn to be unashamed of those scars. Perhaps he could even learn to love himself.

“I'm crazy about you, too.”

Dean’s smile was blinding. “Does that mean you'll give me a chance?”

“You'll be the one giving _me_ a chance… I hope you realise that.”

“Hey. I can be a handful as well, you know!”

“What about your job? I can't just move to Kansas. I have no money, and nowhere to live –”

“You're staying with me, you idiot.” Dean swept a thumb over the back of his hand, effectively easing his concerns. “I'm renting the place above the garage. It's small, but cosy.” He winked. “The perfect place to write a book.”

Castiel huffed a disbelieving laugh. “You want me to move in with you? After everything that I –”

“You were hurting,” Dean said. “That crap’s in the past now. All I know is that I love you, and I want you with me, so... This seems like a pretty decent solution, right?”

Without thinking, Castiel leaned forward and kissed him. It was sweet and chaste and everything Bartholomew wasn't, and he loved every second of it. When he pulled away, Dean brushed his knuckles against his cheek and smiled, his eyes sparkling with a boyish sense of giddiness. It was enough to turn Castiel's stomach into a mess of butterflies and clumsy somersaults.

“I'm gonna take that as a yes?” Dean said, a little breathlessly.

Castiel chuckled. “You know, being your roommate has been a very chaotic experience.”

“That so?”

“Yes.”

“Well” – Dean pecked him on the lips and grinned – “I hope you like chaos, 'cause there's plenty more where that came from.”


End file.
